T Minus 2 Hours - Beat the Clock
“Don’t look like no dentist’s office I ever did see.” Anna June Thacker, his 3:00PM, was now his 10:00AM. She took in the guest suite with its’ double bed, and fixed Dorian with an accusatory glare. “Judgin’ by what Ah’ve seen of yah mouth,” he quipped, “we could count those visits on two fingers. Over there, please. The chair,” he gestured. The infirmary’s current occupant, ten year old Marius Englehardt, was getting good and numb from his injections. The boy had an advanced sweet tooth, resulting in a mouthful of cavities to keep Lunar Veil’s DDS “drillin’ and fillin” until 11:00 at the earliest. Fortunately, his last two appointments of the day were all single tooth extractions. So long as he could commandeer the finer guest spaces for the work, he could meet the new deadline. “Now then,” he said easily as she opened her mouth. “Yah said just a cleaning is all?” “Yessir.” “Alright then.” He pulled a pair of hollow U-shaped devices from the utility tray. “This is ultrasound,” he explained. “We’ll let it run fah about ten minutes. It’ll knock most of tha plaque off, an’ I’ll come in tah finish the clean an’ polish. Now,” Dorian slipped the pieces into her open mouth, “you can close. No need tah bite down. Just relax. Ah’ll be back in a few.” The lower deck lounge space was empty, except for the Englehardt boy's mother, a nervous looking woman Dorian guessed to be roughly his age, though the mileage of her life had added years to her face. “Doctor,” she said in a timid voice to match her features, “is it really going to be seven hundred fifty credits?” He nodded. “Tha boy’s got ten cavities, ma’am.” “His father told me not to spend more than two hundred.” “That’ll getcha three,” he shrugged, “with a goodwill discount on tha last.” He placed his hands behind his back. “Ma’am, he’s a boy, and these are his permanent teeth just grown in. They’re important tah his health. Mah prices are discounted fah the outer rim. Yah really should consider tha extra five hundred fifty.” She heaved a sigh. “I know, I know. What about five hundred for the whole job?” Dorian tapped his lips with a finger. “Ah want tah help yah…truly Ah do. Mah materials and drugs are not inexpensive,” he made a show of contemplating aloud. On such occasions, he prided himself on knowing just what sort of barter might be had by a glimpse at a person’s overall hygiene or state of dress. This woman had some classic tells. Clothing was drab and worn. Her hair was not styled, nor were her cosmetics well applied or of quality. Yet, both mother and son wore shoes that looked…”Tell me,” he asked, “What’s your business?” Mrs. Englehardt looked up. “We’re cobblers,” she replied. “Shoemakers.” “Five hundred cash,” Adler offered, “and three pairs of boots. Utility style for both a fourteen year old boy and a seven year old girl…but make the girl’s red. Third pair are western cut black leather, flat toe and a raked spur heel…size ten adult male, if you please.” He checked his watch. Eight minutes to go on Ms. Thacker’s cleaning. He could drill out four of the boy’s cavities in that time. “Alright, son,” he said briskly as he slipped onto the stool. “In the words of the poet, ‘let’s rock.” The drill did its’ work, punctuated by a high pitched whine as it chewed through the brown decay, a comfortable process that permitted him thought. Marisol had been as good as her word. The lawyer, a crisp woman in a dark suit, had come prepared with every document. Literally, he had but to sign his life away. The happy tradeoff was, of course, protected access to his funds…at least by tomorrow, when all of his holdings would be safe in a Santo bank. The other documents… writs of intent and powers of attorney, all hinged upon one final piece of paper. Marisol’s breath hitched as he put his hand to it. Dorian’s observation “guess Ah call yah ‘mom’ now” earned him a punch to the shoulder, followed by a hug. And so that much was done. He checked his pocketwatch. “Ah’ll be right back,” the dentist announced as he moved off to his other patient. Just under two hours til upthrust. If he remained focused, he could make it.